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Sean Derry wondered for a brief moment whether he could pretend not to have heard and continue on his way, but realised that he was just a few steps too far away from safety.

Turning he smiled deprecatingly,

"Your Grace", and taking refuge in the punctilious courtesy that he employed as his best defence he bowed low.

Richenda, for the Grace in question was the Duchess of Corwyn, was not however to be as easily placated. Her face was flushed and it was clear that her temper was rising to match her fiery hair.

"Since when am I "Your Grace" to you in private, Sean? No, don't bother to reply" - this as her victim opened his mouth as though to speak, - "Only when you are trying to hide something from me, you and that husband of mine!"

It was a mark of the closeness of the friendship between Alaric, Richenda, Sean and Celsie in these last years that Richenda would thus speak of her occasional frustration with her Duke to Sean, knowing that he would not question her loyalty as a dutiful wife or worse use her indiscretion to make mischief. On this occasion, however, Sean was too in awe of her wrath to be sensible of the privilege.

"These petitioners of Kelson's - that I am told we are to expect here in the Castle..."

Sean smiled soothingly, although he failed to meet her eyes,

"It is a mark of the King's high esteem for his Grace, and for you too, My Lady, that he entrusts such, er, unusual guests to your care."

"Indeed! And just when was I to be informed that the greater part of these guests are improperly dressed females who are looking forward to the sight of my wedded Lord in black riding leathers?"

Sean looked embarrassed for there was no answer, while inwardly he murmured maledictions on whichever member of the scouting party, who had ventured on that "interesting" trip to Youessay, had been dilvulging such information to Richenda. Sextus, it had to be Sextus, seeking revenge for his public humiliation by Kelson. Maybe a word in a certain Baroness's ear... though he was likely enough to have enough problems of his own with Celsie. He had no desire to provoke her to yet more painfully enchanted braies.

"Richenda, you surely don't imagine..."

"No" she snapped, then in more measured tones, "No, I trust Alaric to know what's good for him. But he's a man and as vain as the rest of you."

She smiled, not entirely reassuringly, "Be off with you, Sean, and if you could root out his Grace from where-ever he has gone to ground, I would be much obliged. Oh, and Sean, I believe that Celsie has undertaken a new piece of needlework."

« Last Edit: January 02, 2017, 05:52:09 am by revanne »

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Let God rise up, let his enemies be scattered; let those who hate him flee before him.As smoke is driven away, so drive them away; as wax melts before the fire, let the wicked perish before God.(Psalm 68 vv1-2)

"It is a mark of the King's high esteem for his Grace, and for you too, My Lady, that he entrusts such, er, unusual guests to your care."

"Indeed! And just when was I to be informed that the greater part of these guests are improperly dressed females who are looking forward to the sight of my wedded Lord in black riding leathers?"

Sean looked embarrassed for there was no answer, ...

ROFL.

Laurna smiled at the saphron gown and soft under-dress in which the Earl of Derry pointed to in the hands of the maid stepping into the basement cell which was the room she was lead to upon her arrival. She looked at the wool with mixed emotions, hoping against hope that the wool would not be scratchy and that it would instead be warm against the draft of this dark damp room; the smell of the near sea lingered with a more unpleasant smell of decaying seaweed (which was her hope that that was what it was.)

"Thank you, Lord Derry, I have studied the fashion of your clothing through the arts which had survived into my time, but I have feared that our fabrics would in no way compare to those made on Gwynedd looms. Otherwise, we, the other ladies who arrived with me... are they safe?... hmmm... I assure you, we all would have arrived more suitably clothed, if that option had been available to us."

Derry scowled at the women's blue leggings, lavender under shirt and matching half length knitted open cardigan. "Her Grace has requested that each of you be given proper attire before being presented."

"Presented? Why, thank you, my lord. I, I mean we, for I hope I will not be alone, wish to offer the utmost respect to the lord and lady of Coroth Castle. I have admired... the deeds... of such persons for many, many years."

"So I have been informed." Derry scowled at the brown eyed blond woman of years greater than his own who looked at him with hope in her eyes. The duchess had little need to worry. "I was also informed that you were interested in the Coroth buildings and grounds. That you asked for a 'Tour', is that what you called it, of the castle?"

Laurna's features lifted with sudden pleasure. "Please, Lord Derry, yes, I would love that. I have speculated much on the looks of Cowryn's capital. I would dearly love to see it with my own eyes."

That and a good glimpse of the Duke, Derry mussed under his breath, knowing it would be only the duchess to whom the women of the modern world would be presented to, at least on this day. "Make your self presentable, I will return in the hour." Derry said before he paced out of the dungeon.

Hopefully Laurna, you can talk comfortably to Richenda about fabric and fashions and assure her that our intentions are entirely honourable ( of course they are ).

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Let God rise up, let his enemies be scattered; let those who hate him flee before him.As smoke is driven away, so drive them away; as wax melts before the fire, let the wicked perish before God.(Psalm 68 vv1-2)